


I Wish I Could Live Forever (Inside A Dream Of You)

by Grinner_H



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinner_H/pseuds/Grinner_H





	I Wish I Could Live Forever (Inside A Dream Of You)

Cliché : it begins - as it _always_ does, as these things inevitably _do_ \- with a kiss.

He's pushing you down onto the cotton covers of your oversized bed; so much strength in his slender frame, so much force in his lips that're latched against yours like a hungry, hungry thing. 

His kiss feels like a smile and it's all _wrong_ \- so at odds with the red-hot sparks igniting within your belly, the frightening, uncontrollable _want_ deeply rooted in your bones.

You love-hate the way he tastes - like elation and transience, like mockery and goodbye. 

You hate-love the way he laps at you, tickles the inside of your mouth with his agile tongue, then pulls completely away - too abrupt, too soon, when you've just forgotten how to fucking _breathe._ He's staring down at you, caramel irises glinting something like wicked triumph, fingernails digging into the caps of your shoulders. 

You want to kiss that crazy, smug look off his face. You want to pull him on top of you, feel the weight of him against your chest, his knees on either side of your waist, _himself_ \- all slick heat and unbridled passion - tight around you. 

You want, you want, you goddamn _want,_ but when you reach for him, he's already gone.

\--

But it goes like this : you feel like you're standing stock-still while the seasons, the trends, the entire fucking _world_ changes around you.

Amid this ceaseless chaos you wouldn't ordinarily care about, _he_ is there - flying by you like an unstoppable force of nature, like _life_ which refuses to wait for anyone.

He's always running like he's got somewhere to go. Always chasing after something - a target, his scoop of the week, the end of the rainbow, _who fucking knows_ \- whose value only _he_ can see. 

It's infuriating. 

He's always looking at the world through that goddamn viewfinder of his. So why does he never see _you?_

And some days, you grab him by the wrist and spin him in your direction, determined to never let him go. 

_Look at me. Look at **me.**_

But he's always slipping away, out of your grasp, like sand through your clenched fist.

\--

Fact : it's as simple as _I want you._

At least, you _think_ it ought to be, if it weren't so damn _difficult_ to express. 

And maybe it's _pride,_ maybe it's your goddamn stubborn nature that bends and warps that simple confession into something like _You're mine_ and _You belong to me._

He fights you with bold declarations of how he's nobody's property, of how he'll never be like you. Yet, he comes to you with bright eyes and nectar kisses, a body that begs where his mouth - _his_ pride - would not. 

But inherently, he's like a cloud - always choosing freedom. 

You _know_ he thinks you're trying to cage him. Truth is, you only want to _be_ with him. You want him to _want_ to be with you. 

And there's only so much of this chase you can take before it gets old (before _you_ do).

\--

Moment of truth : he's headed for the door.

And it's another one of those nights - the smile on his face that's warm like sunrays, the look in his eyes that doesn't fit with his smile. 

He's got his jacket half-on, slipping into his well-worn sneakers with no need of a shoehorn, yammering on about some comet he needs to photograph which comes around once every twenty-five years, or was it two hundred and five?

You don't really know, because all you see is him _leaving_ \- plastic smile, frustrated eyes - and all you can think of is, _Don't. Just **don't.**_

So - lightning-quick - you reach for his wrist; grab so tight, you're almost sure you're _breaking_ it, and choke out, _"Stay."_

It's all you can manage - stupid, _stupid_ pride - and you desperately hope it's enough.

Takaba looks at you with too-wide eyes, and somewhere inside your barbed wired heart, it _hurts_ that this is such a shock to him.

But then shock gives way to evident relief, and his smile - it isn't plastic anymore. 

His laugh is light (like your heart's beginning to be), even when he looks straight at you - _into_ you - and promises nothing.

\--

Surprise : you wake to the sight of his beautiful face scrunched up in laughter. He's got your hands in his, pulling you out from under the cotton covers of your oversized bed.

"Hey," he says, with eyes that sparkle something like _joy,_ something like _finally,_ something like _about goddamn time,_ "I'm still here."

You can't stop smiling.


End file.
